Chapter 27

Perhaps Anna should have felt sad as she read the letter in her hands, but while she did feel small traces of sadness, she mostly felt relief.

Relief that she could leave.

That she did not have to live like this.

With guilt thrumming through her veins every time she walked through the camp, feeling his eyes on her. Judging her. Marking her. Reminding her.

But that would be over now.

Finally.

Her heart clenches painfully in her chest at the thought of brown eyes topped with black hair and suddenly all the relief vanishes from her body, leaving it empty of feeling.

They wanted her to come back.

Her father was sick, not near death at least for now, the Maester wrote. But still, just in case they said. They needed more people back at RedRun, since most of their people had come with them to war, except for those not part of the army. She wasn't needed there- here- not really. She was a small help in the grand scheme of things, only helping her mistress and bandaging the wounded and-

Those damn brown eyes flash through her mind once more and burn the back of her eyelids when she closes her eyes in an attempt to flush the thought out of her mind.

Leaving would be harder than she thought.

Jon dove forward, rolling on the floor before quickly landing back up on his feet, whirling around to face his opponent. He twirled the wooden sword in his hands before putting it into the position that Youngbird had once advised him would be the most successful in battle.

The man dove forward, his harm outstretched before Jon quickly snapped forward, clashing his sword against his and sidestepped out of the way, quickly whacking his sword against the other mans back, watching him stumble forward face first on the ground.

Jon stopped where he stood, wiping his hand against his brow, his hand sticky with sweat.

He stepped forward, offering his hand to the man on the ground, "Good match?"

The man nodded warily, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled back up.

They had not had a battle in a few weeks since the Battle of Oxcross and the men were beginning to become restless, sitting there like sitting ducks. Not that Jon particularly blamed them, they all wanted to go home, to their wives, families, children.

Jon ignored the slight tightening in his stomach as he realised that he did not have much to go back to. His father was dead, and while he did have his siblings it was not the same. Not anymore.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of a familiar voice, "You've improved since we last sparred."

He whirled around to see Robb standing nearby and while his words may have been light his eyes were serious. The man beside him quickly lowered his eyes and muttered, "Your grace." Then quickly scampered off, taking the hint.

"Robb," Jon said, walking forward towards him.

"Jon," Robb returned, his voice lightening up slightly, his features loosing all of their seriousness, though his eyes were still slightly guarded.

There was a few moments of tense silence before Jon asked, "What are you doing here Robb?"

How far they were from "Farewell Snow" .

"You have not been attending the recent war councils," Robb said, "I've been wondering as to why that is?"

Jon shrugged slightly, his eyebrows lowering into a frown as he shot his half brother a glance, "I wasn't aware that that offer was still on the table."

Robb seemed to look slightly uncomfortable at his words and he shot a quick glance around them to make sure that no one was listening before he leaned forward slightly, his voice in a whisper, "For Lady Everra it might not be, but for me it is."

"I serve Lady Everra now, Robb," Jon said, his voice slightly accusing, "I can't sit on her war councils or any of her personal councils unless she invites me to do so-"

"But she did," Robb said, "Has she ever told you not to come since—"

"No," Jon snapped, his voice tense but he could still feel the cold metal blade against his skin and the accusations spilling from her lips.

"Then can you please come," Robb said, rubbing his hands against his brow.

Jon looked at him sharply, his desperation not making that much sense.

Robb then seemed to realise how desperate he must have sounded because his features quickly hardened and he took a step back away from Jon, his voice growing cold, "I expect to see you there next time the war council commences."

Somehow Jon knew it wasn't just a suggestion.

When the next war council did commence, Jon was very hesitant in coming along. He had paused outside the tent, gulping loudly before entering, his fists almost clenching at his sides.

The room did not go quiet when he entered. While there were some curious and hostile glances sent his way no one else seemed to care, almost nodding in acceptance.

It was then that Jon was hit with the realisation that people had more important things to worry about then whether or not a bastard was sitting on a war councils. They were fighting a war.

If it didn't bother them, it shouldn't bother him.

It still did.

Though he knew it should have not, it still did, though not as much as it did when he was younger.

Their acceptance was temporary, he told himself, when the war was over he would still be a bastard.

Robb sent a glance his way and Jon could see the flash of appreciation, of the gratefulness in his eyes, even if it was for a brief moment.

Jon had to admit that he was confused as to why exactly Robb seemed so desperate for him to join now. It had indeed been weeks since Ser Daavos's death, yet Robb had made no move to reach out to him before that. Sure, he talked to Jon occasionally but never about these matters, he had never made any indication that he wanted him there. Jon understood but the bitterness he felt when he saw Robb was uncontrollable, inevitable almost. Jon's eyes scanned across the room, searching for an empty chair and when his eyes landed on one, the figure sitting next to it caused the bitterness to rise in his chest.

So thats why he wants me here.

Lady Everra.

Her posture was straight, her aura as unapproachable as always, yet Jon was surprised to find her gaze on him, though her eyes revealed none of her thoughts. When their eyes met across the room, she seemed to almost nod slightly, as if in acceptance of his presence and Jon let out a small sigh of relief.

He walked towards the chair and when he finally reached it, he stopped and played a hand on it, waiting for her approval. She nodded slightly, and then he sat down beside her and he could not help but think that this was the place of a dead man, being by her side.

"You came," she said lowly, so that no one could hear, her eyes glanced towards his face.

Jon nodded, muttering, "Indeed I did, my lady, I hope that it is not a problem with you."

"No," she said, cutting him off firmly, "It's not."

Everyone then chose at that moment to take their seats, looking up at the table at Robb, whom had just taken a seat. Grey wind lay near his feet and his slight movements now filled the silent room.

"The past of few weeks have been difficult," Robb announced, his voice firm but not harsh, Jon noticed. "Due to the recent surrenders of nearby Castles and the Lannister's being holed up at Harrenhall and Stannis preparing for his attack on Kings Landing—"

Jon shot a sharp look at Lady Everra, and his confusion must have been clear on his face because she leaned over slightly and whispered, 'We have received recent reports that Stannis has begun to prepare his ships and his men for an attack. With majority of the Lannister's army at Harrenhall leaves Kings Landing mostly defenceless therefore vulnerable to an attack."

Jon frowned at her words, wondering why they were not attacking the Lannister's if they were vulnerable.

"We do not have enough ships," Lady Everra whispered to him, almost as if reading his thoughts, "Also, the probability of Stannis winning is debatable."

"You think he will lose, my lady." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

She nodded discreetly, her eyes now looking at Robb intently. Jon observed how she looked at him, almost as if she were an artist admiring her work. Not that she was staring at him in awe, or with happiness or anything in-between, but with a cold satisfaction almost. Jon did not know the nature of the relationship between his brother and Lady Everra and though it may not be obvious, there was more than meets the eye.

Love was out of the question.

But as Jon continued to observe his brother, and how often he discreetly managed to cast a glance their way, he concluded that infatuation may a possibility.

"We need to strike soon," Robb concluded, "And fast."

The room was tense at his words, wary glances thrown across the room.

"The Lannister's or the Baratheon's?" Everra asked, settling her gaze on Robb.

His blue eyes settled on her and Everra could almost pick up on his poorly concealed anger and frustration.

"The Lannister's," He answered, "They are currently in their most vulnerable position throughout the months that we have been at war. We need to wipe out their main source of power, where they get their strength from."

"Kings Landing is where they get their strength from," A lord called out, his voice echoing across the tent, "And we don't have any ships to do so."

"We have some but not enough for an army of almost 40,000, besides, majority of our soldiers are not even trained to fight on the water, let alone manage a ship," Everra snapped.

The man glared at her, his hands clenching into fists and the vein by his neck becoming more and more visible by the second.

"Calm yourselves," Robb snapped, "I was not thinking of Kings Landing."

Silence settled over the room at his words.

Everra however felt a wariness creep over her.

"You want to attack Casterly Rock," Jon said from beside her, his voice filled with something very akin to wonder.

That was the last plan that Robb had before he died.

"Yes," Robb replied.

That was when the room snapped into action, some yelling loudly, others conversing with Robb or those sitting beside them. Maps were being rolled out onto the table, numbers were being thrown about and Robb was glancing at her, almost as if looking for a slight approval .

They had not talked to each other once, in the past few weeks. Months even.

Was this some kind of sign? Everra wondered, Of his impending death?

Still, she nodded at him, approving of the plan.

The hours flew by as they planned and planned and discussed and when eventually the sun began to set and people began to drift from the room and when everyone had left, Everra stood from her seat, waiting there patiently. It had been a while since they had spoken with one another.

"Your grace," she said, watching him closely.

"Lady Everra," he returned.

The silence between them was tense, awkward even.

"What do you think of the attack?" Robb asked.

She regarded with a certain curiousness that made Robb feel slightly uneasy.

"I think that it is well thought, both strategically and morally, if we manage to take Casterly Rock we manage to bring the Lannister's to their knees to strike the final blow. Kings Landing."

Robb sighed loudly and muttered loud enough for her to hear, "That is if Stannis does not take it first."

Everra shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing, "If Stannis does take Kings Landing then we have one less enemy to worry about," she said, her voice almost accusing.

"You want to be the one to wipe out the Lannister's don't you?" In though it was posed as a question, Robb knew not to answer, "You want to get revenge and see Joffrey be brought down to his knees. You want to make sure that you are the one to save your sister."

"Wouldn't you want to get revenge if they had done the same to your family?' Robb shot back, his eyes stormy.

"A war can not be one if the reason why one is fighting is to get revenge. While revenge is one of the greatest motivators in the world, it is also one of the greatest sources of idiotic decisions that winds up with people getting killed," she snapped.

"I'm not fighting this war for revenge," Robb stated and at her raised eyebrow he amended, "Well, not only for that."

They stared at each other for a few moments, the tension building and just as Robb was about speak once more, someone entered the tent.

"Robb," Catelyn said, her eyes darting towards Everra, her eyes flashing with suspicion.

Everra nods at Robb and muttered, "Have a good night, your grace."

Robb and Catelyn stood there in awkward silence, waiting for the other to talk.

"Mother—"

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him, her blue eyes flashing.

Robb whirled around to look at her, his eyes widening, "Mother—"

"You are betrothed," she snapped, "Does that not mean anything to you—"

"Mother of course that means something to me," Robb snapped back, taking a step closer towards her.

"Then you must have forgotten otherwise you would not be—"

"Believe me mother I have not forgotten," Robb snapped harshly, his blue eyes furious, "I do not need you barging into my tent, interrupting a conversation I was having with one of my closest advisors and telling me to remember the fact that I am betrothed to someone I do not know. Now, why are you here?"

Catelyn tenses at his words, her blue eyes losing most of their fury and she lets out a loud defeated sigh, sitting down on the chair behind her, observing her son with a tiredness that makes Robb lose all of his fury as well.

"I just—" she starts, her voice catching in her throat, "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt."

Robb snorts at that, he is fighting a war now, he is a king now, there are more important matters to worry about then whether or not he gets hurt.

He tells her so as well and when she sighs softly, concern evident in her eyes she looks so helpless and unlike his usual strong willed mother that Robb walks towards her and kneels down in front of her, clasping his hand in hers.

"I know mother," he says gently, "But it is a little to late for that."

Catelyn eyes him carefully and he does not attempt to talk, waiting for her to find the words she wants to say.

"Love didn't just happen to us," she starts, her blue eyes lightening slightly, some of the helplessness leaving them, "We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone. For you, for your brothers and sisters— for all of us. I want that for you. That love is stronger," she says, her voice pleading, "It lasts longer."

Robb eyes her with a slight confusion, though it does not take him long to realise why she is saying this— or better yet, whom she is saying this for.

"Mother—" he starts but is cut off by her.

"Its not as exciting as love in the time of war but—"

"There is no love," Robb grits out, frustrated and pulls away from his mother, "Let me make this abundantly clear mother, there is no inappropriate relationship between myself and Lady Everra, do I make myself clear? I do not know what you have heard—'

"I haven't heard anything!" she says, her voice rising slightly, "But I see the way you interact with her, how you need her approval, how you worry for her, how you forgave her for almost betraying you—"

"She thought we tried to kill her—"

"See!" she said, "Even how you defend her actions. She's changed you," she says, her voice softening, "for better or worse I do not know."

Robb ground his teeth together in anger, his eyes flashing dangerously, "Mother, I have no intention whatsoever to break my oath to the Freys. None. I have no romantic feelings towards Lady Everra and there is no 'love in the time of war'.'

She nods slightly, though Robb can tell that she is not fully convinced.

"If you treat your oaths recklessly your men will do the same," she says gently yet firmly, "I came here to warn you, not to criticise you."

Robb nodded at her words and replied, "I know mother, I know. "

Everra was surprised to find Anna already in her chambers when she returned, ready to help her wash and undress.

Anna seemed preoccupied recently, constantly being late or in a constant hurry, not eager to be around for long.

So when Everra see's her shifting on her feet nervously, biting down on her lower lip as she splashes water onto her face, she stops for a moment, eyeing her intensely.

"What is the matter Anna?"

Anna jumps at her words, looking startled.

"Do not tell me that something is not the matter," she snaps at her, "Get it over with and tell me now."

Anna hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath before saying. "I am requesting permission to return to RedRun, my lady."

Everra did not say anything, instead just continued to splash water on her face, waiting for her to finish.

"My father is ill," Anna says desperately, almost as if needing her to understand, to see that she is not a coward.

"Go," Everra said, not moved by her desperation.

Anna looked at her for a moment, shocked and gaped at her muttering, 'My lady?"

"Go," Everra stated, "Leave if you must."

Though Anna knows she should not, she feels hurt begin to bloom in her chest, a sadness overcoming her.

Is that it? she thought, We may not see each other ever again.

Still though, she begins to walk out of the tent, stung by the dismissal.

She stopped when she reached the exit however, and said our enough for Everra to hear, "I hope we meet again, my lady."

Then she left, before she could do something stupid like cry.

"Anna," Jon said, entering the tent.

He did not see her at dinner, where they usually ate, even though he saw her earlier in the morning. She seemed fine then, so when she did not turn up he was worried.

What he did not expect was for her to be packing her belongings in a small bag, her back to him.

"Anna?" It is a question know, a plea for some sort of explanation.

The confusion and denial that builds in his chest is crushing and he feel as though a boulder was just thrown on top of him, making it difficult to breathe.

She jumps slightly, her back stiffening at the sound of his voice and it takes her a few good moments before she turns around, wiping at her eyes.

"Jon," she says with false brightness, "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried when you did not show up for dinner," he says and he can not stop the bitterness from rising in his veins, "Though I seem to be interrupting you packing though I did not even know that you were leaving."

Anna winces at his tone, guilt evident on her face.

"Jon you must understand that I have to—"

"Were you even going to tell me that you were leaving?" he says angrily, his voice rising, "Or were you planning on sneaking off in the middle of the night, not even bothering to say goodbye. As if we are no even friends—"

His voice drifted off at the look of guilt on her face and the sudden disbelief he feels takes over his body, "You were, weren't you? You were just going to up and leave. "

"Jon—"

"Do I really mean nothing to you?" He snaps at her, taking a step closer to her, "Or do you really not even care that I could die and then we would never have spoken to each other ever again—"

"Of course I care!" She says loudly, tears springing in her eyes, "I care— so much. Jon, I couldn't even bare to say goodbye to you because—"

"Because what?" he snaps at her.

"Because I knew that if I said goodbye to you I wouldn't want to leave," she admits, a tear streaming down her face.

Jon does not even care that he is supposed to be angry with her as he walks up to her and gently presses his lips to hers, muffling her sound of surprise.

It's a soft kiss, gentle, just the brushing of their lips before he pulls away, glancing down at her to see her staring up at him, with wonder in her eyes.

"I love you," he says, resting his forehead on hers.

He hears her inhale sharply in surprise, her eyes fluttering, "I love you too," she whispers, before pressing her lips against his.

This time the kiss is more firm, more powerful, it grows with their intensity and the warmness that is spreading all over his chest his slow but passionate and when her hands reach for the bottom of his tunic he pulls away from her, slightly surprised.

"Anna—"

"I want too," she whispers, pressing a small kiss on his chin, "I may never see you again. We may never have the chance to do this and I want this—" she gestures between them, "To be with you."

"I don't want to dishonour you—"

"You won't," she says gently, kissing him once more.

They don't talk as they undress each other gently, their passion gentle and not harsh, not angry.

When it is finished they are both lying next to each other, soaking up each others warmth. The camp is quiet in the dead of the night, the only sound besides their breathing is the wind.

Anna's head is resting against his chest, near his heart and she is drawing patterns on his skin with her fingers. Jon tries not to shiver at her touch and instead nuzzles his head into her neck, pressing a kiss there.

"I think we may have scared the other ladies away," he says and listens to her giggle, his heart swelling at the sound.

They stay quiet for a while, simply enjoying being in each others arms, before she whispers into his chest, "I don't want to leave you."

Jon presses a quick kiss to her forehead before staring into her eyes, wiping away the small tears streaming down her cheeks, "I want to marry you Anna."

She draws back from him, slightly shocked, "Don't say things you don't mean Jon—"

"But I do mean it," Jon says, his brown eyes more lively then they have been in months, "Anna I love you. That won't change, regardless of whether or not your here or at RedRun or even in Kings Landing. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Heck, lets go get married now—"

She slapped his shoulder playfully, the stars in her eyes, "Shh, be quiet."

After a few moments, Jon speaks, serious now, "I'm serious Anna, I want to marry you."

She glances at him, love in her eyes and traces his lips as if to memorise their shape.

"Okay," she says, "I'll marry you."

Jon smiles brightly at her and kisses her softly, slowly before she pulls away and says, "But only after the war is over. I don't want this to be an impulsive affair in the night Jon. I want my father to be there, to be married in my home with my friends, with you. Not surrounded by war and death."

Jon nods at her, happiness blooming in his chest, "Alright then."

A week passes slowly after their decision to attack Casterly Rock and there is a small wariness building inside Everra as the day to move comes closer and closer. There has been no word from Tyrion from Kings Landing and the feeling building inside her stomach is an uncomfortable, foreign one. Unwelcome.

The day is warm, the sun beating down on them.

That is why Everra is slightly surprised when some of the soldiers come into her tent, dragging a man in between them.

"What is this?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at the men.

"We found him, a Lannister spy near the edge of the forest my lady," they reply shortly.

The man does not attempt to struggle or even deny the fact that he is, in fact a spy and simply stands there silently, his head down.

"Look at me," Everra hisses at him, watching him tense at her words, "Look at me."

He does slowly, his wide blue eyes frightened.

"Are you a spy?" She asks slowly.

The man blinks for a few moments— a few moments too long as Everra reaches over and snaps his neck, watching him fall limp in her guards arms.

"Take him out of here," she snaps, returning to her seat.

She is not surprised when Robb comes barging into her tent not even an hour later, his blue eyes stormy and furious.

"Did you kill an unarmed man?" he asks her calmly, resting his hands on the back of the chair in front of him.

She paused her writing for a moment, thinking of a response, "Yes," she replied simply, continuing on.

"Why?" he bites out, his anger evident.

"He was a spy an was reporting information to one of our enemies," she replies flippantly, rising from her chair to reach for her seal.

"Does that not bother you somehow?"

Everra shot him a sharp glance and responded just as uncaringly as before, "No. Why should it?"

"Why should it?" he mutters, shaking his head in frustration.

"Why are you acting like a child?" She snapped, her green eyes aloof.

Robb's head snapped to look at her, his blue eyes furious but determined.

"Because you act as if you don't care about anyone or anything!" He yelled, taking a step closer to her.

"It's not an act-"

"I know you cared about Daavos," Robb said, cutting her off, "Don't you dare tell me otherwise."

Everra's eyes seemed to tighten at the accusation, her hands beginning to clench at her sides.

"You felt something for him," Robb said, his voice finally softening and the anger in his eyes diminishing by the second, "Your just too- too scared to admit it."

"Believe what you think," is all she replied, her eyes still not revealing anything.

"I guess your just as cold hearted and unredeemable as they say," Robb said, his voice filled with bitterness.

"I presume so."

The silence was stifling to the both of them, the tension clawing at their throats, the words that needed to be said stuck in their throats.

"I'm apologetic," she finally said, capturing Robb's attention, "That I hurt you. That I am hurting you. I never. . ." her voice caught in her throat, the crack evident in her voice, "I don't want that. Not like this."

"Right," Robb said, scoffing, " You probably can't wait for me to be dead. Not like it would matter, you don't care whether or not any of us lives or dies as long as we serve your purpose."

The words would have hurt her had they not been the truth. A horrible truth, but one that she had seemingly accepted a long time ago.

Still, the words fell out of her mouth.

"That isn't true," she said, her voice raw and her eyes showing just a small glint of something, "I don't want you die."

Robb's eyes met with hers and before he knew what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them, tilted her chin upwards with his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

He remembered his mothers words, about how her and his father's love was built stone by stone, that it lasted longer, that he should strive for that and maybe he should, but not now. Not when a sudden fire sprung in his veins, a sudden craving for more. More of anything.

He suddenly understood the fear of wildfire. How it moved so fast and so quickly that you could blink and it would have spread over everything in its path, consuming it in its flames.

That's how he felt. Consumed.

For a few seconds, that is, before he felt her pull away from him, her eyes narrowed at him.

"No," she said, her voice firm and she took a step back away from him, "I don't feel that way. Not for you— or anyone else for that matter."

Robb nodded numbly, still in slight shock over what had happened.

How? Robb thought.

"You have a fiance" she said flatly, moving even further away from him.

Robb still did not say anything, still too consumed by shock to even begin to form words.

"Leave," she says coldly, "Your grace."

He did.

Shit.

What was that?

For the first time in a long time, Everra was. . . . speechless. Not because of the possibility of him having feelings for her- no she could have seen that coming from a long time back- but she never thought that he would act upon them.

Perhaps he did not intend to, she rations, remembering the look on his face when they- she- pulled away. Either way, Everra did not quite know how to react, feelings - romantic ones at that- were not something that she was easily able to grasp. She manipulated ones emotions every day of her life, she could read ones emotions, guess their emotions but she could never fully understand them. Almost as if she were incapable of doing so. Which, to a certain degree, Everra acknowledged she was.

It would be easier to manipulate him know, she amended, now that it was for certain that he at least felt some romantic feelings towards her but that meant that their. . . . dynamic would change.

Everra tries to ignore the flash of grey eyes and blonde hair in her mind, ignoring the almost unnoticeable pang in her chest.

Everra sank down in the chair, rubbing at her eyes, a sudden tiredness overcoming her.

Why is it, she thought, that the good ones are always attracted to the monsters?

'This alliance would have cost you your life, I could not let that happen.'

The words enter through her mind, dangerous and unannounced and she ignores the words, the mean nothing to her. They are the words of a ghost.

Everra sighed softly, rubbing at her eyes, her tiredness finally catching up with her.

She glanced at her bed and rose from her chair and walked over to the bed, falling face down onto it. She did not bother to change, or to even check where Andromache was as her eyes began to droop and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

"My lady," the voice whispered, waking Everra from her sleep.

She was distantly aware of a hand gently shaking her shoulder and snapped her eyes up at the intruder, about to snap at him before realising whom it was.

"Young bird," she said, propping herself up on her elbow, "Why have you woken me?"

He bit his lip, his anxiousness clear on his face, "Forgive me my lady but this is something of the utmost importance."

She frowned at him, an uneasy feeling clawing at her heart, "What is it?"

He didn't answer, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"Young bird what is it?" she demanded, her voice growing colder with each passing second.

"My lady this is for you," he said instead, handing her a small letter.

The bound had already been broken, a clear sign of someone having already read it.

Everra felt a sudden coldness seep into her bones as she stared down at the piece of paper in her palm.

Robb felt someone shake his shoulder roughly, his eyes cracking open to look at the intruder.

"Robb," his mother whispered, "wake up."

"Mother," he croaked, rubbing at his eyes.

She moved away from him then, lighting the candle by his bedside before blowing out the flame on the stick, shuffling around the tent.

Robb propped himself up on his elbows, and even though his eyes were still only half open he saw that the sun had not yet risen and could not hear the usual bustling of the soldiers outside.

"You are needed," she said, turning around to face him, "Something has happened."

Robb felt his stomach drop.

He leapt out of the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold ground below, before quickly shoving on his boots and reaching for the creased tunic he had tossed to the bottom of his bed in exhaustion.

"What is it?' he asked, the worry evident in his voice as he tied his cloak around his neck, glancing at his mother.

"She'll explain," is all she said in return.

Robb burst into the tent, adrenaline pumping through his veins and Robb could have sworn that he heard the distant echo of his heart beating in his ears.

He looked around the room, his eyes glancing from side to side as he slowly began to frown at the sign of the empty tent.

"Mother?" he asked, turning around to look at his mother, only to find that she had not entered with him.

He frowned once more, turning back again, before frowning at the sight of her.

His stomach dropped at the sight of her, a sudden lump forming in his chest as the sudden feeling of soft lips overcame his senses.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat before noticing her position.

She sat down in the chair she usually did, a creased piece of paper laying in front of her on the table. Her head was downcast, her raven locks sliding near the front of her face. From where Robb was standing he could see her hands curled into fists, her knuckles turning a bright red. She made no sign that she had noticed his presence and so he carefully stepped towards her, the feeling of nervousness disappearing with each step.

When he had reached the back of her chair, and he was so close to her that he could almost feel her locks brush against the side of his elbow.

"We were wrong," she said quietly, her voice breaking the silence in the room.

Robb frowned at her words, his blue eyes filling with confusion.

"Everra-"

"We got our message from Tyrion," is all she said, effectively cutting him off. She waved a hand towards the piece of paper laying in front of her and muttered, "Read it."

Robb looked at her cautiously, the utter. . . . dullness in her voice surprising him. Her voice was usually firm and powerful but now it was just limp, weak almost except well, she could never truly be weak.

Robb reached forward to grab a hold of the paper, his eyes squinting slightly in order to make out the small scrawl.

His skin grew cold and goosebumps began to appear all over his body as his eyes lingered over the words, begging internally for it not to be true.

No no no . . .

"We were wrong," she said once more.

Her eyes glanced up to meet his but Robb glanced down at the words once more, his eyes lingering on the last sentence.

If you hurry you might be able to stop it.

Stannis wasn't attacking Kings Landing.

Nor was he attacking Winterfell.

"He's riding for RedRun," she said, almost as if reading his mind.

"My home."

"We'll send soldiers," Robb said pleadingly, his blue eyes widening with desperation, "We'll warn them-"

"Have I not taught you anything?" Everra said, her green eyes flashing sharply at him.

Robb gaped at her, confusion running through his veins, "What?"

Everra looked at him with an annoyed look on her face, waiting for him to finish.

"You don't want to stop the attack?" He asked.

"It's not a question of whether or not I want too, Ro- your grace its the matter of me- us- not being able too."

Robb frowned at her, "Why—"

Everra let out a frustrated sigh and stood from her chair, forcing Robb to take a few steps back.

"Who knows that Stannis is riding to RedRun?" She asked.

"Us, Tyrion, Stannis-"

"Well obviously Stannis knows where he is riding to but you are not getting my point," she hissed at him, "Who told Tyrion about his plans? Whom could have known in Kings Landing?"

Robb frowned at her for a moment, thinking before the realisation hit him, "Varys."

She nodded at him, "Yes and whom would Varys have told first when being brought with this information?"

Robb's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he spoke, "The Small Council."

"More specifically," Everra added, "The Lannisters. This siege is supposed to be known only to the people within Stannis's closest circle, it's a wonder Varys even received this information. If we sent troops to RedRun, they would know that we have an inside man in one of the camps. Kings Landing is the most dangerous place to be, especially for a spy, if they even suspected that one of them was one, they would be executed within the hour. We need that spy. We need Tyrion to give us information until this war is over. "

"So what?" Robb asked incredulously, "We just let all of your people die?"

Everra's eyes flickered downwards for a brief moment, before meeting his once more, "Stannis won't kill them all. He is doing this to show a sign of strength- of victory before attacking Kings Landing. RedRun is supposed to be one of the most impenetrable castles in the whole of Westeros if he does manage to capture it then he seems-"

"All the more powerful," Robb finished, eyeing her closely.

"So we let innocent people die in order to maintain the safety of our spy?" Robb asked.

"Yes."

Everra's eyes lingered on Robb's face as she let the word fall from her mouth, watching his eyes fill with regret, guilt, helplessness but also with a newfound understanding. He was learning.

Good.

Her eyes flickered away from his face, the image of his shocked features flashing through her mind and the sudden tension that filled the room was not like that of before.

"Everra," he said softly, walking towards her, gently touching her shoulder with his hand.

Her back was to him so he could not see her reaction to his touch. Her soft tresses brushed against his hand and though he knew it was wrong ( he knew he knew he knew it down to his very bones) he needed her. Not loved her. Needed her.

He ignores the slight clench in his stomach as guilt begins to run through his veins. Her words thrum through his head you are betrothed.

He just sentenced so many people to their deaths. Only the gods knew how many, women, children, would be slaughtered for their decision.

"No," she said, gently shaking her shoulder out of his grasp.

"I'm only going to say this nicely one more time Robb," she said softly though as she turned around, grabbing onto the hand that was on her shoulder, her eyes had turned cold, not matching the gentleness of her voice, "I do not feel that way about you. You should not feel that way about me either."

Robb nodded, his eyes understanding but she did not let go of his hand for several moments.

"It's just that. . " Robb drifts off, his voice beginning to crack slightly.

She let go of his hand and for a brief- small minuscule moment her lips curled up into a small smile.

"We do what is needed of us to survive," she said, perhaps not as coldly as she usually did, "Remember that."

Boom Out.

Okay GUYS SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE! I've been really busy over the past few weeks and I injured my shoulder and it sucks and I'm better now so thats something and well I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Its quite long and it has quite a bit of romance. Yeah. . . I hope you guys enjoyed it. Like I really do. Romance scenes are really tricky for me to write and to try and not make them sound too cheesy. Hope you like the recent developments this chapter. Eve's feelings for Robb are not as 'grand' or romantic as Robbs feelings for her, obviously. . . if she even has feelings for him. Jon/Anna development? I felt it was a long time coming. . . The attack on RedRun by Stannis? Robb and Everra's decision ? Tell me your thoughts. Love You GUYS. THANKS FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT. Remember to tell me your thoughts. Until next time. :)

FionaKevin 073